Drabbles and Babbles
by Wheezambu
Summary: Just a collection of drabbles, like da title says. Rated it an R just because I KNOW I'll write a naughty drabble sooner or later.
1. A Question of Manners

**A/N: Wrote this one for a fanfic challenge on LJ. Didn't get first place, but did take Moderator's Choice. Whee!**

****

**_A Question of Manners_**

"Because," the priestess said, pushing a pair of chopsticks at him. "It's how humans eat their food."

He looked annoyed, his ears flattening as he regarded her. Reaching out one sharp clawed finger, he pushed the eating utensils back at her. "In case you ain't noticed," he sneered. "I ain't no human."

She sighed, settling back where she knelt in the grass. She'd sensed he was going to be difficult about this. Her hand waved over the small table she'd set up for them. "I know you aren't human," she said in her usual soft, serious voice. "I am well aware. I just thought that if you were more comfortable with human customs, it might be easier for you to interact with us."

"Bah," he said, rising up in a half crouch to regard her steadily. "Humans don't like me no matter what I do. And I don't care. Your little sticks can't change that, priestess." His lip curled slightly as he looked down at the neat little meal she'd prepared for them. A tiny laquered table set up in the soft grass, two small bowls of rice, each with its own set of offending chopsticks, a small plate of pickles. To the side, a few freshly grilled fish were laying on a large leaf, the smell of their meat was tantalizing. He was hungry.

Without really considering her reaction, he made a quick grab for one of the fish. Her lips thinned in annoyance as he snatched one up and wolfed it down whole. A little sloppy maybe, he had to admit it as he brushed bits and pieces of the meat off his face. He didn't like that look in her eyes, it wasn't her place to make judgments either. He'd caught the fish. He could eat it however he wanted.

"Is it because you don't know how to use them?" the young woman persisted. He'd grown up rough and wild, she knew that even if he had been closemouthed about his past. She didn't want to change the hanyou, but it hurt her heart for some reason that he was all alone in the world. She couldn't blame the villagers for being frightened of him even if he really hadn't done a thing to threaten them. He was wildness itself, the unknown threat lurking in the darkness. A nightmare, half youkai, and to be feared by ordinary mortals.

She was no ordinary mortal and his isolation tugged at her kind nature. He reminded her a little of herself for some strange reason. She was also solitary, preferring the quiet of the forest when she could get it. It was difficult sometimes to be everything to everyone. Difficult and tiring. She wasn't allowed to have bad days or temper tantrums. She was required to be the perfect priestess, never showing fear, never showing exhaustion. The priestess wasn't allowed to want, the priestess wasn't allowed to need. In her own way, she was every bit as much of an outcast from normal human society as he was. Just because it was reverence that set her apart instead of fear didn't make it easier to bear.

"Do you know how to use them?"

He glared at her, folding his arms over his chest and huffing. "Of course I know how to use your damn chopsticks," he grumbled. "My mother was a human, I told you that. She taught me when I was just a runt."

The priestess smiled. "So show me then. It's such a small thing I ask."

The hanyou pouted, one full lip pushing out slightly as he looked back down at her table. The sight made her want to giggle, but that was one of the reasons she kept seeing him. He was rude and temperamental, always on his guard and so cocky it was hard to believe, but he made her smile. He made her forget about her sacred duty, just for a couple hours here and there, but she welcomed any respite these days. More and more demons were coming after the jewel, more and more she'd been forced to kill. And she hated killing, even youkai that saw humans as nothing more than vermin. She had been born with an innate appreciation of all life that suited her spiritual calling.

That was why she hadn't killed this one. That and when she'd had him defeated, pinned helplessly by her arrows, she'd looked into those angry golden eyes and felt something she'd never felt before. Curiosity. She'd never seen a demon like him before and she was loathe to destroy him, for all his cursing and blustering. When she found out he was half human, she'd said a quick prayer of thanks that her bow had not taken his life. It would have been murder no matter what he intended to do with that jewel. And he was so young, how could she expect him to know better?

She smiled slightly as his hand reached out again for the chopsticks, picking them up carefully in those strong claws that could so easily shred whatever they touched. It amused her that he was trying to be delicate with them as he held up the utensils and sniffed them suspiciously. His ears twitched and the priestess resisted the urge to reach across the table and tweak them. Even her little sister, who was still more afraid of him than not, thought those ears were cute. She thought they made him look like a puppy and the priestess agreed, although she didn't tell her sister what a dangerous little puppy this could be.

He knew she was waiting and he knew that she wasn't going to let the matter drop. He'd learned that much about her by now. She could be stubborn as any demon herself and was far too used to getting her own way. A little glimmer of anger sparked in his eyes at the thought of anyone, human priestess or no, making him do what they wanted. He was tempted to kick over the table, yell at her and storm into the woods. Tell her where she could put her precious little sticks and be done with this game they were playing. He was after the jewel, nothing more. He didn't need friendship from a human if that was what she was trying to offer him. Although he wondered why she bothered.

And he wondered why he bothered, why he was letting her befriend him. It went against all his instincts and it went against everything he lived by. Hanyou didn't have friends, they especially didn't have human priestesses for friends. He watched her face as he played with the chopsticks, making a show of examining the pale wooden sticks for hidden threats. He liked her face, she was pretty as her kind went, and something about her smell made him keep coming back to see her. He didn't think about it much beyond that, not being much of a thinker in the first place. If he didn't do this, she might just decide to stop wasting her time on him. She might stop bringing him food. Rice and roots for the most part, plain boring human food but better than nothing if you were hungry. He'd prefer meat, if he was hungry enough he wouldn't bother to cook it, let alone use a silly pair of human chopsticks to eat it.

Still, he had let himself get used to her and even a stubborn hanyou had to admit it wasn't at all bad. Since his mother had died, so many years ago, there hadn't been many people he could talk to. And this priestess was easier to talk to than most humans. She didn't call him a dirty half breed, she didn't look at him like he was something tainted. And he liked that. More than he wanted to acknowledge, somewhere in the tight little ball that had become his heart he liked that. He liked her.

So, with a sigh of resignation and a quick glance up to make sure she appreciated this monumental effort he made in trying to please her, the hanyou picked up his bowl of rice and started to eat.


	2. Warmth

**A/N: This is the first drabble I've ever done. Never had much interest in them as I'm usually too wordy. In my opinion, a drabble should be short, concise and flow smoothly, preferably with an ending that leaves the reader going...whoa. The challenge theme for this one was snow.**

Snow. As it gently fell around her, she remembered that she'd once thought of it as pretty. That was in another lifetime, when she'd had a soul capable of being touched by beauty. She stretched out her hand to capture a few of the falling flakes, watched dispassionately as they did not melt in her icy palm.

Once she'd been alive, able to feel the warmth of another's skin next to hers, able to warm another's lips with her own.

Now she didn't even know if the memories belonged to her or to one of the captured souls that whispered in her mind.


	3. His Smile

**A/N: Just a comment on my favorite smiler from the series.**

Emotion was unacceptable, beneath him. Only the acid hiss of his claws rending flesh gave him purpose, sketched him in vibrant colors. The white of bone, the crimson of blood.

A cold sculpture of ice and pure starshine. Not cruel, only exact to his own standards that allowed no weakness. Evil was too base for him, wickedness a mortal failing.

Yet, sometimes he smiled.

The imp knew. The girl knew. His smile was a warning, the promise of darkness about to be unleashed.

The smile still somehow looked sweet and wistful on his matchless face. Looks can be deceiving, as all beauty is not gentle and all perfection is not pure.

And sometimes a smile is only the fanged invitation of death.


	4. Hair of the Dog

**A/N: I apologize for the title...the challenge theme was "Hair" and god, I couldn't resist to save my... :grin:**

He hated his hair.

A young hanyou boy sat in his dead mother's garden and counted the stars, whispering their names to himself as he waited. The moon was rising slowly over the treetops, taunting him with its fat, unconcerned smile. He was leaving tonight. He'd already made up his mind. In a way, he'd always known it would come down to this. He supposed he should thank them for making the decision so easy.

Moonlight creeping over the shadows seemed to make his hair glow from within, a silvery radiant mass. He lifted a few strands, letting them slide through his fingers. Whitest white in the daytime, it was almost blue in the shadows, turning silver and glittering in the sunshine. It had the texture of raw silk and he hated everything about it.

"Mama, why is my hair white and not black like yours?" a very young Inuyasha had asked once.

Izayoi had smiled at her son. "You have your father's hair, just like you have his eyes. You're every bit as beautiful as he was."

Beautiful or not, he still hated being so obviously different from the others. "Nobody else here has white hair except the old people. Why am I so different, Mama?"

She knew. She knew what her people thought of her son, knew what the other children called him when they thought she couldn't overhear. It angered her, but more often it just brought tears to her eyes, knowing her child would always be an outsider wherever he went.

"It is because you are so very special," she whispered into his hair, sweeping the little boy into her arms and holding him tight. "You are different because you are destined to be more than they are, more than just ordinary."

He didn't know what she'd meant by that, he only knew that his hair was one of the things that set him apart. When he remembered, he kept his fingers curled slightly so that they wouldn't notice the claws as easily. He couldn't hide his eyes, but he found it was easier when he didn't meet the gaze of the others. Easier not to see the loathing in their human eyes, the contempt and fear that told him what he really was.

Hanyou. Half breed. Tainted and unclean.

His hair was the hardest thing to hide. He'd often thought that if he'd just been born with normal colored hair, he could at least blend in. The ears, however, they were what they were, soft white triangles that marked his dog-demon heritage so effectively. When he remembered, he made a conscious effort to keep them flat on his head. It was difficult at best and anyone who knew him knew what he was hiding anyway.

The fangs were easiest to conceal. As long as he kept his mouth shut, nobody had to see them at all. If he could ever kept his mouth shut. That was harder than keeping his ears flat.

He'd tried to dye it a couple of times. The slippery silver strands wouldn't absorb whatever stain he tried to use, instead returning to their glossy whiteness after only a few hours. He'd cut it off once, using a rusty old blade that someone had discarded in the kitchen's trash heap. That's how he'd found out that his hair would grow back overnight, it was every bit as stubborn and rebellious as the hand that had shorn it away.

He couldn't get away from what he was. He was the son of a dog demon and his hair was the hair of a demon as well.

At least, Inuyasha thought, watching as the sky as grew brighter with the full moon, at least he could get away from here. His mother would have been dead for five years this summer and nothing about this place still reminded him of her. He would leave with nothing but the clothes on his back.

And one single treasure he kept close to his heart.

Reaching under his clothes, he pulled out the soft package that meant so much to him. It was all he had left of his mother, they'd taken everything else away, stripped her rooms of everything within hours of her death. An animal like him didn't need comfort, he could sleep curled up on the hard floor. At first, he'd wondered why they let him stay in the room at all. Eventually it dawned on him that no human could ever be quite comfortable in a place where a demon child had slept.

He wondered if they'd ask a priest to bless the floor now that he was leaving.

Carefully, he unfolded the scrap of fabric and looked at his treasure. The long ebony strands had been glossy once, over the years they had become dry and dull. He stroked them anyway, raised them to his nose to inhale a faint whiff of her smell. It was all he had left, the only thing worth taking from this place. There was no reason left for him to stay.

Inuyasha folded the battered square of fabric and tucked it back into his clothes. The wall around her garden was tall, but it was nothing to him. He could have jumped over it anytime he wanted. And right now, tonight, he wanted to.

He was ready to leave.


	5. Worst Memory

**A/N: Another drabble challenge, this time the theme was remembering, had to use a memory from the actual anime/manga series as basis for the drabble.**

Fist clenched around his prize, he ran. Fury had dominated his life before he'd met her and fury dominated him now. He had been a fool, he should never have trusted her. She was a liar like all the rest of them.

Blinding pain as the shaft went into his body, checking his speed with her betrayal. Pinned, he felt himself fading away into cold nothingness. Arms falling limp and helpless at his sides, his eyelids closing against his will as he fell into a sleep that was nothing like sleep, more like death without peace, without solace or redemption. Hatred was the last thing he tasted in his mouth as he slipped out of the waking world and into legend.

"Inuyasha?" Kagome's voice sounded concerned, her hand on his arm. "Are you okay? What were you thinking about?"

He turned away, his voice gruff with old hurt. "Nothing worth remembering."


	6. Poisonous

Theme was flowers. Summary: A rose by another other name will still melt your face off. 

Sunlight in the early dawn made the dew sparkle like jewels upon the flowers. A peaceful meadow lay before him, sweet scented blossoms opening to greet the morning. He appreciated the tranquility of solitude more than ever and was pleased that his companions were still asleep. He'd left the child curled in a small warm huddle next to his retainer, who had a curious habit of sleeping sitting up with his eyes open. Unsettling.

The demon lord leaned down to pluck a small, fragile wildflower. He closed his eyes as he inhaled the delicate aroma, thinking only of springtime and many years of memories. He remembered this scent somehow, perhaps from childhood, perhaps a former lover had been fond of the fragrance. He really didn't remember nor care to try and place the smell. It was enough to simply enjoy the moment.

A flurry of movement caught his attention. What a bother, there was a small group of angry villagers heading his way. Foolish mortals, when would they learn that it was never wise to provoke a demon? He sighed, realizing his morning meditation was thoroughly spoiled, and raised his hand as the green energy started to swirl around his fingertips.

"Dakkasou!"


	7. The Burden of Celebrity

**Summary:Inuyasha and Sesshomaru have a conversation. Oh I just couldn't help myself, I really need to be supervised.**

Inuyasha stormed into the room and threw himself on the bed. "Oh my god," he moaned. "I just can't take this anymore!"

Sesshomaru paused in brushing out his long white hair. "What's the problem now, little brother?" he asked in a sarcastic tone. "Someone post another fanfiction about how adorable your ears are?"

"No," the younger brother grunted, waving a fistful of paper in the air. "It's this damn fanmail, I can't keep up!"

The elder taiyoukai sighed and put aside the pearl handled brush to regard his distressed sibling. "Inuyasha, we've talked about this. You are not obligated to answer every email, niichan. Just let it go."

"Easy for you to say," Inuyasha said, his voice muffled as he kept his face buried in the pillow. "You don't care about what the fangirls say. They expect you to be a cold hearted bastard. Thanks to all that fluff that's being written, everyone thinks I'm a deep, sensitive bishi!"

"I would disabuse them of such notions, my brother," Sesshomaru answered in a distracted tone. Carefully, he examined his claws. They were dull and this meant that he really needed to get in for his manicure treatment. "Ask Takahashi-san to write your part a little colder. She's very accommodating that way."

Inuyasha raised his head, snarling. "It's not her fault, I'm fine with the way my part is going in the manga. It's all them damn fluffy fillers they keep throwing in for the anime. Showing me all sensitive and sweet, acting like a goddamn pansy whenever Kagome touches my hand. Please, I don't mind a little romantic tension, but I might as well cut my nuts off and wear a dress!"

"Jakotsu would love that," Sesshomaru said with a wicked grin.

His brother looked less than amused. "I thought I told you never to mention that name around me again."

The grin widened. "Insecure in your masculinity, little brother?"

The hanyou growled at him. "I'm not the one everyone thinks looks like a woman!"

Sesshomaru waved his hand, throwing back his hair in an elegant gesture. "Calm down, Inuyasha. Fangirls love the fluff. Comes with the job, would you rather be flipping burgers somewhere instead of working regularly in manga?"

Shoulders sagging, Inuyasha shook his head. "Nah, I guess you're right. This is better than that or waiting tables. But goddamn, don't you get sick of it? I mean, I've seen your fanmail. And they call Miroku a hentai, some of these women need serious medication."

Smirking, Sesshomaru got up and moved across the room to examine his reflection. No help for it, he was utterly perfect. "I don't read my fanmail, Inuyasha. I'd advise you to also keep a professional distance. Females of the human species get very...possessive when it comes to this fandom. They aren't reasonable. Just relax and enjoy your status. Think of all the happiness you've given others with your work."

Inuyasha looked at his brother suspiciously. "Are you high? Since when does the great Sesshomaru give a damn about others' happiness?"

With a sigh of resignation, Sesshomaru wrapped the soft, furred boa over his shoulder. "I do not, as you so quaintly put it, give a damn. Nor am I under the influence of any illegal substance. I am just trying to give you a more constructive perspective."

Inuyasha sat up and rubbed his face. "Yeah, yeah. I know what you're saying. And you're right."

"Aren't I always?" Sesshomaru asked smugly.

"Watch it, Fluffy-sama," his brother growled.

Sesshomaru ignored the reference to his hated nickname. "If nothing else, think of the husbands and boyfriends of your female fans. Doesn't it give you a thrill knowing that somewhere some woman is yelling out YOUR name while her partner is wondering what the hell she's talking about?"

Inuyasha started to grin. "You think that happens? You think that girls yell out "Inuyasha!" while having sex with other guys?"

Sesshomaru paused on his way out the door, a wicked gleam in his golden eyes. "I guarantee it, little brother," he said, a satisfied smirk. "Just as I am sure they do so with my name as well. With one small difference."

Inuyasha cocked his head to the side, looking curiously at his older brother. "What's that?"

"I'm sure they call out my name at least twice as often as they do yours."


	8. Forbidden Love

A/N: Okay, don't hate me. This was for a non-canon pairing challenge and well…I'm just evil that way. It's a joke, people, it's just a joke!

Inuyasha had been attracted to her from the first moment they'd met. At first he'd tried to fight the way she made him feel, too embarrassed and shy to make his desires known. She was so beautiful, so strong and lithe, he could spend hours just thinking about the softness of her hair and the warmth in her beautiful eyes.

He'd been utterly astonished when she'd made the first move, drawing him away from the camp one night to seduce him and leave him exhausted by passion in the morning. They'd had to be careful to keep their secret from the others, fearing no one would understand the instincts that bound them. There would be comments and snide remarks, hurt feelings all around.

Wasn't that always the case with a forbidden love?

Still, looking down at her sleeping form shining in the moonlight, he found he had no regrets. Not for their love, not for the secrecy. When their quest was completed, that would be the time to openly declare their feelings.

Until then, the cat and the dog would have to pretend that they were just friends.


	9. Better Safe than Sorry

**A/N: This was another one for the drabble challenge…theme this time was protection. :snicker:**

"But Kagome," Inuyasha whined.

She shook her head. "No buts about it, Inuyasha. You have to wear it."

He was going to pout, she was sure of it. "It's customary in my time," she explained. "It's for both of our protection and there's nothing unmanly about it."

His ears twitched unhappily. "But I won't be able to feel anything, not with that…that thing on my…"

She raised her hand to stop his protests. "You want me to do this, don't you?"

"Yes," he answered, a sullen edge to his voice.

"Then you must wear it. We're still after Naraku, neither us wants to have an accident, right?"

"But I promise to be careful," he complained. "I swear, I won't slip up and…"

Kagome sighed and folded her arms. "The discussion is over, Inuyasha," she told him with authority in her tone. He knew she couldn't be budged. She was such a stubborn girl.

"Fine," he snapped, taking it from her. "Show me how to put it on."

Kagome grinned at him. "It's just a bicycle helmet, Inuyasha. If you want to learn to ride my bike, this is the safest way to do it."

He snorted. "Whatever."


	10. Voyeur

**A/N: Another drabble from an LJ challenge. Theme was Secrets**

Shippou had a secret.

He was not as innocent as he liked to pretend, at least not all of the time. When they went to bathe in the hot spring, he sometimes liked to watch. He told himself he was really just protecting them in case they were attacked. But he knew better.

He liked to watch them. Pale skin glistened with water, the soft laughter echoed in his ears as they playfully splashed each other. Just a glimpse now and then of a breast, a smooth thigh, and it would make his young heart race.

Inuyasha knew. What he thought about it, Shippou couldn't be sure. He never said a word when the girls returned, smelling exotic from the perfumed soaps Kagome brought from her time. Inuyasha never said anything at all, not even when Shippou jumped into her arms and cuddled relentlessly against her breasts.

They were both demons, of course he knew.

And at night, warm and snug next to her in the sleeping bag, Shippou would open his eyes and see Inuyasha watching them. Sometimes there was a hint of jealousy in those golden eyes, but more often than not, there was just a knowing smirk.


	11. Look but Don't Touch

**A/N: We all know how Jaken feels about Sesshomaru, don't we?**

He had to have hope. Otherwise he couldn't have endured the centuries of abuse, of disregard. It is a difficult thing to be little more than worthless to the one that you desire with all your soul, your love cast aside like a useless and soiled garment.

Hope had to have dreams to live, and Jaken had dreams. His lord might ignore the breathless sighs, but he couldn't be completely ignorant of their reason. Jaken had hope in that his lord hadn't cut him down for his rather too obvious feelings, but he also knew that there was a line he dared not cross. The first time he tried to lay a single green finger on that perfect pale flesh, he would be struck down most violently.

And not resurrected.

He could still watch and dream and sigh over it though. When the lord went to bathe, Jaken dared to slip away after Rin was asleep. He would stare in rapture as cold moonlight glittered on alabaster skin, taut muscles rippling with each movement. The hair like spun silk, eyes of amber flames. Sheer perfection come to life and given form.

How he longed to be allowed to lay his unworthy lips against such flesh, hear his lord sigh for the pleasure his retainer burned to give him. Jaken dreamed of the cool touch of those fingers on the back of his head and of being allowed to rest his face against a silk clad thigh.

But it would be death to even try, so Jaken had to be content with craving death.

Does not a moth crave the flame? Does it know that in that instant of fulfillment, of wish granted, it will be charred to ash and nothingness?

Jaken only hoped to be as lucky as the moth.


	12. Replacements

**A/N: An odd little drabble. Sort of a "what if" situation. Take it as you will. FYI...Rin is an adult in this drabble.**

"Do you still think of Kagome?" Rin asked, caressing his shoulders.

His ears flattened on his head, but he didn't pull away from her touch. "Yes," he answered quietly. "I still think of her all the time."

Of course he did, Rin mused, running her hands over his bare chest. She didn't want him to forget the girl he had loved, the girl he had lost. He had even told her once or twice that she reminded him of Kagome with her openness, her cheerful and giving nature.

Strangely, Rin didn't mind being compared to a woman that she barely remembered. She wasn't even sure if Kagome had died or simply just gone away. She didn't press him for the details, content that she was the one who lay in his arms, night after night, and soothed away his pain.

When they made love, limbs twined together, hands grasping desperately, Rin forgot that she was the replacement. She forgot everything in her passion for him, in his need for her. It wasn't Kagome's fingernails that raked his back, it wasn't Kagome's voice he heard crying his name. It wasn't Kagome's body that answered his desperate sorrow and gave him solace from his loss. It was hers.

And did she want him to forget Kagome? No, she didn't. You don't turn off love, you don't just freeze away a loving heart. She wouldn't love him so much if he were able to forget Kagome.

Rin gave herself to him, to the fire of his touch, to the hot dry wind of his aching passion. She knew that he loved her, rarely saying it, but showing it just the same in the little touches, the small ways. He did love her.

He could still feel love. She could thank Kagome for that.


	13. Happy

**A/N: Just another drabble for an LJ comm. The theme was Rain...and the pairing is Naraku/Kagome. Kukukuku.**

She liked to watch the rain although she couldn't recall exactly why. Kagome could stand for hours at the window, watching as the fat, silvery drops streaked the glass. She held her face so close that her breath fogged away the sight and the mist covered the uncomfortable thoughts that were shaded too dark to be called memories.

Once she'd stood on a dirt road in a downpour, shrieking with laughter as she chased someone through mud puddles. She could almost see the brightly colored umbrella as she twirled and danced with it, heedless of the water that plastered her hair to her scalp and the cold that had soaked into her skin. Once someone had dropped a heavy jacket over her head, a red jacket, and chided her about playing in the rain.

_You want to catch a cold, dummy?_

She couldn't remember what, if anything, she'd answered.

"Are you coming to bed soon, my love?" he asked, wrapping warm arms around her chilled shoulders.

"Yes, husband," she answered. She rarely called him by his name. It tasted bitter on her lips, although for the life of her, she could not remember why.

His dark hair trailing over his shoulders reminded her of something too, as did his eyes. But no, his eyes had always been that color, the deepest red of a dying sunset, never the brightest gold of the morning dawn.

"You made me forget," she said in a voice too passive to ever accuse.

"No," he replied, pulling her close to him in the darkness. "I made you happy."


	14. As The Night That Knows No Dawn Falls

**A/N: This is a dark one, the theme was Stars.**

As the night that knows no dawn falls, she kneels in the middle of a grassy field. The stars are bright overhead and the girl gazes up at them with a fatal sense of dread.

He comes, brilliant as the stars, distant as the twinkling jewels of a thousand burning lifetimes. His hand caresses the back of her neck.

"You have betrayed me," he whispers.

Tears sting her eyes. "I fell in love," she answers. The stars were blinding her, streaking her vision like the blade of a sword.

"You were foolish."

Her young lover was dead, just an innocent boy she'd met by the river. He'd said she was pretty and she'd let him touch her because she didn't think to say no.

Didn't want to say no. She wanted to say yes. Yes to love, yes to children, yes to the mortal life she'd been born to lead. She wanted to marry and grow old with her husband.

Her head falls forward as he stands behind her. The stars reflect in his cold eyes like ghosts over still water, bright but lifeless, pitiless, immortal.

"I still love you," she whispers.

She wonders if he'll grieve.

His hand contracts and he snaps her neck, fragile mortal flower, girl of sunshine. She slumps with her eyes gone dark; they do not reflect the light of the stars. Kneeling, Sesshoumaru brushes back her hair and places a chaste kiss on her forehead.

He does not grieve.


	15. Only Friends

**A/N: I was in a naughty mood and a friend asked for a Miroku/Kagome pairing...this is the clean version. There's a considerably naughtier version of Miroku/Kagome over at AFF under my penname.**

His tongue traced the shape of her ear, his hot breath lingering on the back of her neck. His hands slid from her waist, under her shirt and cupped her breasts. "Do you like this, Kagome-sama?" he asked.

"Hai," she answered breathlessly.

As she'd grown more mature, her mother had expressed concern that Kagome spent so much of her time traveling with two men. Mrs. Higurashi was quite right to be concerned.

"Inuyasha would never do that," Kagome said with a guilty blush.

Her mother gave her a stern look. "What about that young monk you talk about? From what you've told me he has quite an eye for the girls."

"We're only friends, Mama," she said, looking away from her mother. She didn't like telling lies, but no one else could ever understand.

Miroku pulled her into his lap, caressing her back as she straddled his legs. She cupped his face between her palms, kissing him slow and long, just like he'd taught her.

She felt guilty sometimes, realizing that they might see it as a betrayal. Since the first time it had happened, he'd agreed to keep the secret, and she'd agreed to let it happen again.

A stolen kiss in the forest, meeting each other with a smile. Miroku never pressured her. He told her the minute she became uncomfortable with this, she had only to say so. Kagome never felt uncomfortable.

Friendship takes many forms. For Kagome, all of her friends were special. Shippo made her laugh, she could talk to Sango like a sister. Inuyasha protected her and watched over her; she loved him even as she knew his heart belonged to another.

She loved Miroku as well, loved him as often as they could steal away together. She loved him as a friend.


	16. Birth of a Legend

**A/N: The theme for this drabble was weapons origin...so of course I had to use Tessaiga. I love big swords.**

A bloodcurdling scream split the air, shattering the peace of a calm late summer morning. Deep in the midst of the fire country, a small, isolated forge belonging to an elderly swordsmith still quivered with the force of a tai-youkai lord's wrath.

"You son of a bitch!"

Toutousai was still a little bit dazed, he'd hit his head against the far wall of his home when Inutaisho-sama had struck him out of reflex. He glanced down at his chest where four gashes were bleeding freely and leveled a stern look at his outraged patron.

"That will most likely leave a scar, my lord."

"Serves you right," the angry lord snarled. "You miserable, senile old fart, haven't you got any better sense than to jump on me like that and yank out my TOOTH?"

The smith sighed, getting to his feet with a wince of pain. He was really getting too old for this nonsense. "And how else did you think I was going to get your tusk if not by taking it out of your mouth?"

Inutaisho growled at him. "You could have warned me first!"

"Eh, I'd say it hurts less if you don't know it's coming."

Still scowling, the young tai-youkai lord got to his feet and stalked over to look at Toutousai's prize. The gleaming white fang that had previously resided in his upper jaw had been carefully placed on the smith's anvil. Lying there, it hardly looked like it had the potential to become the fearsome weapon he desired.

"How are you going to make a sword from something that small?"

Toutousai grunted and tapped the fang with his hammer. The fang glowed brightly then expanded until it had grown to the length of a proper katana. He grinned at the wide-eyed young demon. "Trade secret, my lord."

Inutaisho stared at it, quite entranced by the large, glowing fang. He reached out to touch it and then yelped as Toutousai's hammer came down on his fingers.

"Don't touch, boy!" the smith snapped, quite forgetting that he was addressing a powerful demon warrior and the future lord of the West.

"Why not?" Inutaisho stuck his injured finger in his mouth and glowered at him. At the moment he didn't look like an imposing tai-youkai lord, but more like a petulant child. "It's my fang!"

"It's my next masterwork," Toutousai replied. He glanced up and met Inutaisho's sullen expression. "If you weren't a friend of mine I wouldn't even be taking this commission."

"If I hadn't saved your life you wouldn't even be standing here!"

"Oh quit pouting already."

"I do NOT pout!"

The smith chuckled. "And you didn't blubber when I pulled that fang either."

"Is this how you treat all your customers?" Inutaisho demanded.

Toutousai gave him a sly smile. "Just the ones I like."

Inutaisho snorted, heading for the door. "I'll be back in on the new moon," he said, his natural arrogance fully restored. "You're sure you can do this? It will be what I want?"

"I've been at my craft since before you were even out of your diapers," Toutousai replied absently, already absorbed in his work. "Trust me on this."

The young lord left, still muttering under his breath about the whims of senile old coots who had better know what they're doing. Toutousai ignored him, taking out a soft cloth and polishing the fang lovingly.

"You will be the greatest of all," he crooned softly, his mind already turning to the complex and difficult process that he would use. This strong tusk would become a mighty and mystical katana, why the possibilities for it were endless. Despite what he'd told Inutaisho, he was well pleased to have this commission. It would be an amazing piece of craftsmanship.

It would become a legend.


	17. Unintended Discovery

**A/N: Again, I was in a naughty mood. The drabble theme was unrequited love. -smirk-smirk-smirk-**

Shippo worried about Kagome sometimes. Stupid Inuyasha, couldn't he see the girl was in love with him? It bothered Shippo enormously as Kagome was the kind of person who deserved to be loved in return, not cast aside for a woman with a heart of cold clay.

Could he ever tell her how he felt? Could he ever let Kagome know that he understood, that he knew what she going through? He wasn't a smooth talker like Miroku. Still he wanted to show her that his heart was just as full of love as hers, just as wistful with the bittersweet emotion of unrequited love.

Then it hit him. He could draw! He would make a picture for her to show her how much he loved her. She didn't need that stupid hanyou, not when she had a full blooded fox demon who would take care of her every need.

Shippo's hands rooted around in her yellow backpack, searching for the crayons. His mind was already swimming with the beautiful images he would draw to show his love. His fingers closed around something smooth and unfamiliar. Curious, he drew it out of the bag and stared when it started to buzz softly.

His eyes grew wider, not quite so innocent that he couldn't tell what such an object might be used for. Carefully, he replaced it in the bag and moved away, blushing furiously.

Apparently Kagome could take care of her needs without his help.


	18. Betrayal

**A/N: Just a short drabble-ish story for Reiku Toukijin. If you've never seen the third movie, you won't know who Takemaru is or care about the third sword. **

"My lord," the young soldier murmured, dropping his eyes to the ground.

Sesshoumaru could smell the hatred that radiated from the human, hatred and more than a touch of fear. He cared nothing for the man's opinion of youkai, just as Takemaru cared nothing for the fact that Sesshoumaru despised humans. Chance had made them unlikely allies, but nothing more.

"He has been gravely wounded," Sesshoumaru murmured, looking away into the distance. The human kept silent, still staring at the ground. Sesshoumaru smiled ever so slightly, knowing the man's jealousy had made him irrational, if not a little mad.

"I will defeat him," the young man whispered, his voice bitter. "Even if I die, I will avenge my lady's honor." He raised his eyes to meet those of the youkai prince, looking him in the face for the first time. Takemaru thought he had never seen such cold eyes, such an expressionless face.

Youkai that could take human form were to be reviled, this one was no exception. He wondered again what kind of monster would betray his own father by coming here to warn him. They understood nothing of loyalty, cared nothing for duty. They were selfish beasts, rampaging animals in their true form. The precious love of a human heart meant nothing to them.

_Izayoi-hime_, he thought, his heart aching for her. _I swear I will protect you from him!_

"My father carries three swords," Sesshoumaru said, his voice a dry and cold as the winter wind. "The first you need not fear for it is a worthless blade and incapable of being used as a weapon. The second is far different from the first. He will use it most certainly, but only out of necessity."

Takemaru watched as a bitter expression flickered like a ghost across the youkai's pale face. "Necessity, my lord?"

Sesshoumaru waved his hand, an elegant dismissal. "My father dislikes the necessity of killing humans. Tell your men to scatter should they see him swing this sword, it is their only hope for survival."

"My men are prepared to die," Takemaru said harshly, his eyes glittering with anger. "They believe as I do and unlike youkai, they are honorable!"

"Youkai do not kidnap pregnant women," Sesshoumaru answered, a sneer of contempt now evident in his cool voice. "Do not speak to me of honor."

For a moment they regarded each other across the vast gulf of disdain and prejudice. Only their common goal could make them tolerate each other for even these few moments.

"What of the third sword?" Takemaru asked. "Will he use it?"

"One hopes not," Sesshoumaru answered. His gaze darkened as he regarded the human. "It is a cursed blade and extremely dangerous. I bid you to not touch it. It will consume your soul."

Takemaru swallowed against a dry throat. Youkai lords that transformed into giant dogs and cursed, soul-devouring blades, he wanted no part of this. If it weren't for her, for Izayoi, he would never consider challenging such a powerful creature as the Inu no Taishou. Humans and youkai were not meant to breed, nothing but grief and evil could come from such a union.

Grimly, he realized that she would never see it that way. The girl was blinded by what she thought was love, she would never see the creature she called husband as what he truly was, a monster. He would not be able to salvage her life, but he swore upon all he held dear, he would protect her soul from becoming as tainted as her heart.

"I wish you luck, human," the youkai said as he turned and walked slowly away. "I do not expect to meet you in this world again."

No, he didn't expect that he would. Takemaru frowned, glancing up at the darkening sky. The women of the castle had told him that Izayoi-hime's babe was coming soon; it was even possible her child would be born before the moon rose in the sky.

"What of the child?" he asked, calling after the disdainful youkai. "It will be born very soon and be brother or sister to you. Do you care what…"

"I do not care," the youkai answered sharply. "Do what you will. The child is nothing to me. I only care for the swords."


	19. A Houshi's Advice

**A/N: I actually wrote this one a while ago, just never got around to posting it. Hee, it was inspired by Aiffe's** **drabble The Legend of the Magic Button**

Somewhere between his fifth and seventh jar of sake, Miroku's vision had begun to blur.

The past week had been decidedly unpleasant. Inuyasha and Kagome were barely speaking to each other after their last encounter with Kikyou. All Miroku knew was the tension between them was making this journey unbearable. He heartily wished he could suck both into his wind tunnel just to gain a few hours of peace.

His patience had been rewarded when they'd happened upon this village with a charming inn. The inn had been badly in need of an exorcism and the grateful proprietor had extended his hospitality to their weary group. As the owner of the inn had three equally charming daughters, Miroku thanked the fates for their generosity.

He was contemplating on how to approach the eldest of the sisters, a saucy young woman with a knowing smile, when a disgruntled hanyou flung himself onto the floor next to him.

"Nothing I do makes her happy!"

Miroku raised his eyebrows and poured another cup of excellent sake. "Have you tried talking to her?"

"She sat me."

"Have you tried apologizing to her?"

"I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Have you tried anyway?"

Inuyasha's ears flattened on his head. "She just sat me harder."

Miroku hiccupped loudly. The room was beginning to spin and he laughed, realizing that the sake was more potent than he'd realized. "Maybe you didn't apologize in the right way," he said with a conspiratorial wink.

"What? Do you know how to make a woman happy?" Inuyasha asked curiously.

As a man of worldly experience, Miroku decided it was his duty to let the hanyou in on the secret. "Inuyasha," he said, hiccupping again. "My old master once told me of a special place on a woman's body. If you can find it, you will definitely make her so happy she'll forget about being angry."

Inuyasha seemed interested, fixing him with a steady stare. "Where is it?"

A few gestures and low spoken words later, Inuyasha's face had turned as red as his clothing and he stared at Miroku in pure shock. "I can't do that!" he blurted, looking more embarrassed than the monk had ever seen him.

"It was just a suggestion," the tipsy monk murmured, sipping a bit more of his drink.

Neither Inuyasha nor Miroku had noticed that a third set of ears had been privy to their conversation. A fluffy tail slipped away to where the women were gathered.

Kagome's shriek brought conversation in the room to a standstill. "Shippou! Are you crazy, get your hands away from there!"

"But Kagome, I'm just trying to make you happy so you stop fighting with Inuyasha!"

"Where did you get such a disgusting idea that would make me happy?" Kagome demanded angrily.

"They said so," the fox answered, pointing at Inuyasha and Miroku.

For a long moment, glances were exchanged and the tension built. Miroku carefully set down his sake jar and looked at Inuyasha.

"I think we'd better run."


	20. Guilty Truths

**A/N: Hey, I thought I'd post a couple drabbles.**

The truth is that he never loved her. Never said that he did. She's the one who made assumptions of his feelings and made her own heart bloom for him.

Since she's only a love struck girl, he passes it off, promises to protect her always. She vows to stay by his side, and out of loneliness, he allows it. Her jealousy, he has to allow for that too. Humans have small hearts and short lives, but he already knows about that.

"She's dead," the girl says, holding onto his hand like death herself. "You're alive, you deserve to be happy." He's not.

Selfish is what he is, to take advantage of her warm body at night. He closes his eyes and sees another's face, pretends that it's her arms around him. He covers her mouth during sex because their voices are unalike and betray his fantasy.

"I'm pregnant," she tells him, eyes shining. She expects him be happy about it.

In truth, he feels trapped, bows his head and mutters a prayer for forgiveness. She died so long ago that even her son doesn't remember her face, but it's not Sesshomaru she haunts.

It is her husband.


	21. Sunrise

**A/N: And another drabble...this one won first place. Squee!**

A little boy rises at dawn, greets the day with open arms. When he doesn't find his father sleeping next to him, or elsewhere in the shrine, he is confused.

"Master? Where is papa?"

The old man is kneeling, his hands wound tight with rosary beads. The boy has never seen him look so serious, or sober, when he prays.

"Leave him be, boy," the old monk says quietly. "He knows his time is near."

He finds his father in a dark room, hidden from the morning light that bathes rest of the shrine. His father's face is dark, wet with tears and he's _shaking_…

"Papa?"

His father's eyes are desperate, night without hope of dawn.

A little boy screams, held back by their grieving master, and watches as his father's life ends. A curse is reborn in that moment, as the sun rises again, so does evil.

Pain, red-hot as a brand, breaking across his soft palm like an executioner's daybreak call. An orphaned boy sobs into the arms of an old man, wakening to his curse, his fate, his eventual defeat that began with the first rays of rosy sunrise, on the last morning of innocence.


	22. Sparkler

**A/N: Won first place in a drabble contest for this one**! **Theme was Fireworks.**

When she was sixteen, she went to see the fireworks.

He spoke sweetly to her, smiled with the sparks reflected in his eyes. She was tired of saying no, and saw the fireworks from the soft grass in the park.

His hands moved like sparklers along her thighs, lighting fires in the pit of her belly. The air tasted of gunpowder and her body glowed with the sky.

A month later, when she told him she was pregnant, he disappeared even though she told him they didn't need to get married…

He came back and her father let him live at the shrine. He didn't stay, brief and fleeting. He was like the fireworks, bright one moment, gone the next.

She had a daughter and was content to see him when he returned. When one of his visits produced a son, he laughed ruefully and rubbed the back of his neck.

Years later, she saw his restlessness reflected in his daughter's eyes.

Standing on her porch, she watched the festival lights in the sky, smiling as she ran her fingers through her young son's hair.

"Mama?" Souta asked sleepily. "Why do you like fireworks so much?"

"I like the sparkle."


	23. First Time

"Strange kid," one of the men grunted, walking back from the fields.

He overheard them and ignored their words. Just like he always did.

"What do you expect?" the other man whispered. "With that drunkard of a father, there's no one to keep the boy in line."

Bankotsu ignored that one too. He didn't pay attention the whispers, or at least he didn't react to them. But he heard them all the same and felt the anger slowly building. In the soft green meadow the boy would spend hours alone, pretending he was far away from the village of his birth. He'd lie in the grass and stare up at the clouds that passed by, imagining that they were something else.

Anything else. Not just clouds. That one took the shape of a mighty castle, the one over there was the shape of a great sword. He could dream. They hadn't found a way to take that away from him yet.

One of the men coughed and Bankotsu lay very still, waiting to see what would happen next. Sometimes they just whispered about him, but sometimes the men of the village would try to force him to do what they said. Bankotsu wasn't a young man that could be easily forced. He had his father's fiery temper and a stubborn streak that just couldn't be beaten out of him.

Although they still liked to try.

"If he were my boy," one of them said loudly, sure he'd overhear, "I'd make him do an honest day's work in the fields. Not lie around dreaming all the time."

If I were your boy, I'd like to see you try it, Bankotsu thought sullenly. His fist curled around a large rock. I'd really like to see you try it now.

The other man made a hushing sound to his companion. "Leave him be, Hiro," he advised. "The boy's like his father, you never know what he'll do."

Hiro ignored his friend, leaving the road to go stand near where Bankotsu lay half buried in the grass. "I know you can hear me, boy," he sneered. "You think you're better than us? You think you're the only who doesn't have to work to eat?"

Bankotsu didn't like working in the fields. He hated the feel of the hot sun beating down on his neck, he hated the way his back would ache after stooping over all day. And they knew better by now than to leave him with the animals. A bad temper and a nasty disposition, not to mention an unsettling desire to see things in pain, made sending Bankotsu to work with the livestock a bad idea.

For the livestock anyway. He honestly didn't hate animals, no, it wasn't like that at all. Sometimes he just felt so angry, so…helpless, it seemed the only way to vent his frustration was just to hurt something. It made him feel better.

It made him feel good.

Once he'd found an injured raccoon dying in the woods. It wasn't like he could have saved it; the poor thing's bowels had been torn out by some wild dogs. Weak and suffering, it had still lashed out at him when he'd tried to touch it. Bankotsu watched the animal for a while, pondering what to do. Finally, he decided the only reasonable thing to do was to end the creature's suffering. He felt a thrill of anticipation as he lifted the rock, brought it crashing down on the raccoon's skull. Then fascination as the body twitched, jerked, and finally stilled in peace.

This is what death looks like, Bankotsu told himself. Curious, he lifted the rock to see what lie underneath and had to scramble away to vomit hard into the bushes. Yes, he told himself, wiping his mouth. That is what death is.

"Hey boy, you still listening?" Hiro yelled, drawing his attention again.

Just go away, Bankotsu told him silently. Just leave me alone.

"Come on, Hiro," his friend called, starting to walk away. "Let the boy be, it's near suppertime already." The other man walked away, whistling tunelessly as he disappeared around the bend where the forest met the fields.

Hiro didn't move, still standing at the edge of the road. Softly, he called out to Bankotsu. "You know what they say about you, boy? They say you're just as crazy and mean as that drunkard father of yours."

Go away.

"You know what else they say? You know what they whisper about your family, boy? They whisper that when your old man goes on one of his drunks, he doesn't leave any food or money behind for you or your mother."

Don't say it. Just leave me alone.

"And then boy, they whisper that your mother has to whore herself out to half the men in the village just to keep food in her ungrateful brat's stomach. They whisper that she's pretty good at it too. Next time your father leaves, why don't you send her my way? If you were my boy…"

"I'm not your fucking boy!" Bankotsu screamed, leaping up from the ground and hurling his rock with all his young strength. It struck Hiro hard in the forehead and the older man slumped to the ground.

Bankotsu was stunned. He hadn't expected to hit him hard enough to drop him in his tracks. He struggled his way through the thick underbrush to where Hiro lie face down and unmoving. Grunting with the effort, he managed to turn the man over to look at what he'd done. Hiro's eyes were open, glazed looking, and blood was seeping from under his eyelids.

He was dead.

He hadn't meant to kill the man, but somehow Bankotsu couldn't find it inside of himself to regret it either. The rock had caved in the man's forehead, killing him instantly. Bankotsu picked up the rock and looked at it, suddenly in awe of his own power. He'd always been strong, but he'd had no idea he could put such force behind his blow. It made him feel proud and he contracted his fist around the rock in silent, newfound pleasure.

First things first, he needed to hide the body. If he dragged it deep into the woods, it might never be found. And if it were found, scavengers would have taken care of covering up the evidence of who had murdered the bloated braggart. Bankotsu grabbed Hiro's ankles and started to haul him away.

It was the first time he'd ever taken a human life. And the act had filled him with pride.

He was just eleven years old.

One blow and his enemy had been destroyed. Who knew what kind of greatness lay ahead for him?

Let them whisper about that.


	24. Bully

**A/N: A drabble for an LJ comm, theme was Mother.**

"They are cruel to him."

She didn't look up, kept washing clothes. Washing was her only means of supporting her son in this village. A hanyou would starve to death just as easily as a human boy.

The youkai woman watched as human children dragged a younger boy down, rubbing his face in the dirt as they beat him. Inwardly she cringed to see her husband's child humiliated. Outwardly, she was chill as frosted glass…obscure and unseen beyond the surface.

"He does not fight back."

"I told him not to." A sigh. "We're lucky they let us live here at all."

"Come with me then. I can protect you both."

Chapped hands clenched the side of the washtub. An easier life. Protection and comfort. Safety.

"Why would you do that?"

"He is my husband's son."

His wife…while she had been no more than a lover, a passing fancy. Her son a bastard and the woman she'd wronged still offered a way out.

"No." Eyes closed, fingers bent. "I don't want your charity."

_Outside, the beating continues…and a white-haired boy reaches for a rock_…

oOo

She came home crying again.

"Hokuto pushed me down and pulled my hair! Mina said I was ugly and…"

_Shhh_…

"I know they're only children, Principal Takahashi, but this is the third time this week… No, I will not let it go! I want you to speak to Kagome's teacher immediately about the bullying."

Her voice is soft, but there's a needle under the pillow. "Do I need to speak to the board personally? If you can't keep order, perhaps they will find someone who can. Ah, I see you understand."

She knows she won't always be there to protect her. And knows Kagome will learn to defend herself. But for now, she's hers to keep safe.


End file.
